


The Devil's Delight

by johnsarmylady



Series: The Devil and Sherlock Holmes [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnsarmylady/pseuds/johnsarmylady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John enjoy some post-case celebrations in 221B, but neither expected the night to end this way</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's Delight

Sounding like a herd of elephants on the stairs, John and Sherlock ran up to the flat, breathless and giggling, falling through the door and staggering into the living room.

“Yeah, but did you see Anderson’s face when that kid threw up on his shoes?  I thought he was going to cry.” John sniggered, flopping down onto the couch, pulling his grinning lover down until his head rested in his lap, and the blond doctor could look down at the silver grey eyes, seeing love and laughter in their luminous depths.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Anderson would make me laugh without even opening his mouth” Sherlock’s grin was so wide it caused his eye’s to crinkle and shine in a way that took John’s breath away.

Lifting the consulting detective’s head slightly, he dropped a kiss right in the middle of that beautiful grin, allowing his tongue to lap at the full lower lip, running his other hand down the length of the slim torso, brushing his palm softly over the burgeoning erection tenting the front of his trousers.

A groan escaped the younger man as he closed his eyes and arched his body to increase the contact, his hips gently thrusting up and down, setting a slow, sensual rhythm.

“Shhh, don’t rush this. I want to savour every moment.”

With a brief squeeze John moved his hand back up; slowly drawing circles with his fingertips, until at last they brushed over that ridiculously sexy cupids bow.

Quick as a flash Sherlock’s tongue flicked out and tickled across the work roughened pads, running up and down the length of John’s middle finger, scraping the pad with his teeth before drawing it into his mouth, sucking and licking suggestively. He took pleasure from the growl that rumbled up from John’s chest, and pushed himself up so that with a quick twist of his body he was straddling the smaller man, resuming his slow thrusting and pushing his now rock solid erection against John’s.

“Fuck Sherlock, do you know what you do to me?” Panting John threw his head back, trying to regain some control over his body, while at the same time unbuttoning Sherlocks shirt with his free hand.

Pushing the soft material aside he latched onto a succulent nipple, swirling his tongue around the hardened nub, and grazing his teeth across it, chuckling at the hissed intake of breath.

Letting go of John’s finger, Sherlock threw his head back.

“John please!” it was a fervent prayer, whispered towards the heavens, that shuddered through his body and seeped from every pore.

John’s hands, steady at his lover’s waist turned his blood to liquid fire as he slipped his fingers into the waistband of the snugly tailored trousers, moving round, unbuttoning and unzipping, reaching in at last to stroke Sherlock’s swollen cock.

Somehow the blond manoeuvred them both until Sherlock was lying with his back to the back of the couch, and John had rapidly stripped them both of their remaining clothing, pressing his toned and well-muscled body against the glowing alabaster one.

For a long while, the only sounds heard in 221B were the sounds of the fire crackling in the grate, and the muted sounds and whispered words of love, and when at last both men were sated, relaxed and satisfied, they drew closer, wrapped and curled around each other, and drifted into sleep.

The sound of knocking at their door woke them a few hours later, and in the dark of early evening they hastily pulled their clothes on, checking that they looked presentable before Sherlock stepped away to answer it.

Grim faced, Greg nodded to the consulting detective as he walked in, followed closely by Sally Donovan. Closing the gap between himself and John, his eyes looked full of pain as he spoke.

“I’m sorry John; I’m here to arrest you for the murder of Sebastian Moran.”


End file.
